Growth of a Lotus
by xxPeepsxx
Summary: The purest of Lotuses grow in the darkest of soils. One shot.


GaEul froze. Her blood drained. The taste of iron filled her mouth as she bit so hard the inner lining of her mouth broke.

Double lines.

Her breath stopped. Her mind went blank. Her grip loosened and the kit fell between her fingers.

Her weight fell upon her jelly-like legs and she slumped loudly onto the pink tiled floor of her school's female toilet cubicle. A huge sob threatened to burst from within her, simply choking her in the end when it failed to pass through her constricted throat.

Pregnant. Positive. Chu GaEul was pregnant at 17. She was a baby carrying a baby.

… …

Numbly, GaEul shuffled through the doors of her bedroom. As if hypnotised, she headed straight towards her bed and hid beneath the covers, curling up like the infant in her mother's womb that she once was barely eighteen years ago. Perhaps it was the security that she felt under the blankets or the environment that was so similar to the safe, protective haven of her mother's womb. Anyhow, GaEul's restrictive wall of self-defence fell apart and she allowed herself to sob, endless streams of tears, as all her worries, fears and helplessness culminated into that one cry-fest.

What was she to do? She was barely seventeen for crying out loud and hadn't even graduated high school yet. She still had a year to go. What was she supposed to do with a baby? She could not even look after herself! She still relied heavily on her parents, taking what meagre allowance they could give her for simple lunches at school and not much more. She still lived with them. She still needed them. How was she to pay for diapers and milk formula and all the other things that babies require? How would she even care for the child?

She feared how her parents would react if she told them the truth. They would probably scream at her; her mother would howl in anguish and her father would rage in fury. They might disown her. They might never want to see that-disgrace-of-a-daughter ever again. Yet the one reaction that she feared the most would be of them silently staring at her, disappointment apparent upon their faces.

She feared for her future. She could not see what life would grant her if she was saddled with child. She would face the criticism, the judgement and the scorn of society for being a teenaged mother. She would not be able to live a normal life. She would not be able to go to university or live like a care-free undergraduate. She would not have a complete education. She would not have a well-paying job. She would be stuck doing odd jobs like dish-washing without a chance to advance. She would not be able to marry, for who would want a single mother as a bride?

There were so many questions and no answers. The path that she thought she would walk upon fell apart before her, replaced by endless thick clouds through which nothing could be seen.

The only answers she had was the name of the father of her child.

And that abortion was not an option.

… …

She cried until she had no more tears and sleep crept in.

He was amazing. He was hot and confident, his gaze was always straight at the world, never fazing, regardless of the challenges it would throw his way – not that he had many for he was born with a silver spoon between his quaint infant lips and brought up like a crown prince to an empire. His presence commandeered attention.

She had not liked him. He was too spoilt for her tastes.

He had been quick to retort, eager to taunt and tease. For some reason, he had kept picking on her, pulling at her figurative pig-tails whenever he got the chance. A nuisance he was, with an ego the size of Jupiter. She had disliked him, seeing him through disgust-painted eyes, her distaste peaking so greatly once that she ended up throwing her pencil case in his face. To her, he was a complete nuisance, an irritating bug that would not buzz off. At least, that was until she saw him crying quietly, hiding in a corner of the school's hallway.

In that one moment, her image of his pompous self shattered for the sobs that he swallowed spoke of unspeakable sadness. For some reason, his grief was so palpable she felt her own heart break. She shuffled towards him and offered a tissue, only for her hand to be swatted away and anger-laced jet-black pupils to glare at her warm brown ones. After that, he never bothered her. He did not even glance her way. But while he drifted further, she found herself wanting to get closer, sucked in by his duality – his vulnerability and his self-possession.

Now it was her turn to chase and his turn to dodge. She would pop up beside him and chatter nonsensically, an act that made her best friend gape. He would just walk away or enter his chauffeured ride. She would try to catch his eye during lunch but he would just resolutely not look at her as he laughed with the rest of his friends. GaEul soon gave up. Her infatuation died.

She had thought that she would graduate the year without any further contact from him. Yet, perhaps through the magic hands of fate, she saw him again at a low point. He was in the art room, silently staring at a plaster sculpture of Socrates's head. The soft rays of the evening sun poured through the windows behind him, leaving a mystical shine around him. This time, he was not crying. He simply sat and stared, his face blank but his eyes full of quiet sadness. He was hugging his bag, his chin resting upon the top of it, looking very much like a lost child.

Something stirred in GaEul. Inexplicably, she could not leave him alone.

"YiJeong, gwenchana?" she asked him, her voice barely audible and uncertain.

His eyes had slowly met her gaze and he had stared at her for a long time. Silence filled the room as neither moved an inch. The unanswered question hung in the air.

"Do your parents ever fight?" he had whispered.

She blinked once.

"Fight?" she repeated, turning to sit on the stool beside him. "They fight all the time. They can't ever agree on the recipe to seaweed soup; they never agree on holiday destinations, which by the way is the sole reason I have never been out of the country; they rarely agree on movies to watch when we go to the cinema. My mom would always complain about my dad and his socks and my dad would always complain about my mom and her numerous skincare products. The only thing they decide very well on is my punishment when I do something wrong."

YiJung had let out a sad chuckle. GaEul had smiled. They had locked eyes again but the colour in his eyes had changed. There was amusement in his.

"Want to go get some ddeokbokki?" he had asked, rising from his seat, slinging his bag behind him ever so casually, back to the confident, suave YiJeong.

"Sure," GaEul had replied, taking his outstretched hand in hers and he pulled her up.

… …

Summer passed quickly with numerous after-school play-dates between them and they greeted autumn, somehow in each other's arms. He had never asked the question and she had never asked either but wherever So YiJung was, Chu GaEul would be there too. To the rest of the world, they were inseparable young lovers but to each other, they were simply friends whom they loved not-so-secretly.

One night, as GaEul was in her pyjamas getting ready for bed, her phone rang.

She read the caller ID. An automatic smile graced her face.

"Eo, YiJeong ah, wae?"

There was silence on the other end. Crickets and the zoom of cars. No reply.

GaEul frowned.

"YiJeong ah?"

GaEul was getting nervous. It was not normal. Never once had he left her hanging. Even those times when he had accidentally speed-dialled her, the silence was never that deafening.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"GaEul, can you come to the Han River?"

"Now? This late?"

GaEul had gotten up from her bed and had begun pacing around whatever little space she had in her small bedroom. She was worried and concerned. His voice was small and odd. Had he been crying?

"Oh, it's twelve. I'm sorry. Go back to sleep GaEul. I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm coming. Wait for me YiJeong. Opposite the chicken place we frequent right? I'll meet you there YiJeong, wait for me."

GaEul hastily changed out of her sleep wear and peeked through a sliver of space in her door to check the hallway. It was dark and no one seemed to be around. She could hear the orchestra of snores from her parents and brother.

Carefully, she slipped towards the main door and crept out of her house.

Once she had shut the door, she raced for a taxi, ignoring her quest to save for a new laptop.

"YiJeong ah, YiJeong? Where are you?" GaEul called. She neared the part of the river right below the highway bridge of cars above.

Almost immediately, without even having to check his face, GaEul recognized YiJeong huddling against a pillar beneath the shadows. She rushed over without a second thought.

"YiJeong," she merely said and pulled the vulnerable teenager into her arms. He was not crying but he was extremely tense, like a person in shock. For some reason, he was trembling horribly.

GaEul smoothed his hair and simply held him. He did not hug her back but she knew him well enough to know that he was not rejecting her. In fact, he needed her.

"Gwenchana, it's okay."

Silence engulfed them and their hearts beat as one. She did not know what was wrong, only that he needed her and that was good enough a reason.

Slowly, he began to relax. When she felt that he was stable again, she pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, making him look at her.

"Okay?" she merely asked.

Silently, he nodded. She turned to sit beside him, sitting so close that it would seem like their hips were joined. She held him close. She had never seen him so lost like today.

"Dad came home with his latest mistress today," YiJeong offered. "He and mother fought again."

YiJeong's voice was quiet and monotonous, with hardly a trace of emotion. GaEul merely gave a short grunt in reply.

"Mother threatened suicide again. She threatens suicide all the time but today, I-"

YiJeong choked and GaEul held her grip on him tighter.

"Today, I found her unconscious with a half empty bottle of sleeping pills," YiJeong gasped.

GaEul was surprised at the sickening horror that YiJeong had witnessed but she only raised her eyebrows and made no fuss. His breath began to shallow. As automatic as an instinct, she began to pet his arm with the hand she had over his shoulder.

"S-She didn't respond and I didn't know what to do! I-"

YiJeong was beginning to panic again and GaEul immediately pulled him closer, eliminating all spaces, if any, between them. She took one of his hands with her other free hand and tightly interlocked her fingers with his. YiJeong began to visibly calm.

"I called the hospital and they took her away," YiJeong muttered.

GaEul nodded slightly.

YiJeong rested his head on her shoulder.

Like that, they sat for a very long time, neither saying a word, both simply listening to the calming ripple of slow moving water and the zoom of cars above them.

All his life, YiJeong had been given only the best. He was raised with the best of food, the best of education, the best of behavioural classes and the best of clothes. He was never hit or yelled at. His parents had always treated him with enough kindness. But they had never extended that to each other. They would fight, loud and aggressive, their yells reverberating through the household. Their loveless marriage took a toll on him. They only married and stayed married for him. Despite his prestigious upbringing, he felt trapped. GaEul had been his only escape. And he never felt that more deeply than then.

"GaEul, don't ever leave me."

"Mm."

YiJeong sat up and looked straight into her eyes.

"Forever, stay beside me."

GaEul's heart began to race. A warm flush was racing through her as the significance of his words dawned.

"Mm."

Uncertainly, they looked at each other. Then YiJeong leaned forward to kiss her.

And one thing led to another… and another.

… …

GaEul woke up with a start.

It had been a mistake. It was a mistake. She shouldn't even have gone there that night.

When she returned, she was greeted with the stick of a broom and by livid parents. Her mother was practically spitting. Inside her, tiny cells had begun to multiply.

Their relationship had turned weird after that night. They could not look each other in the eye, both recognising that they had done something wrong, done the unspeakable too early. They began to avoid each other. Whispers in classrooms began to get louder. She had been disappointed that he did not come but had been too ashamed to go.

Beneath the covers, GaEul stared into blank space.

… …

Almost two weeks had gone since GaEul realised her pregnancy. She still had not told anyone – not her parents, not her best friend and especially not the father of her child. She was just starting to come to grips with her reality.

She had started having morning sickness, which she barely hid from her mother as weak immunity from studying too much. Slowly, she had organized her thoughts and gathered courage. She had decided to tell them the truth tonight. And perhaps YiJeong too, later after school.

But before she was ready, he was plopped before her, courtesy of her best friend.

"Now you two talk and make up," JanDi had ordered. "I don't know what the deal is, but you two have been acting weird and GaEul has been sad and I don't like GaEul being sad. So talk, rich-boy."

And as abruptly as she had come, she stalked off.

Awkward silence.

"… … Hi…" YiJeong started.

"Hey."

"So how's life been?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Uhm."

And they stayed there in awkward silence.

After a few moments, GaEul rose from her seat.

"I think I'm going to go. See you around," she half-heartedly waved.

YiJeong caught her hand.

"GaEul, I'm sorry. What happened that night was us being stupid. I couldn't control and I, I-"

YiJeong could not continue. His words died in his throat.

"W-well, I was stupid as well," GaEul whispered, her voice cracking. She looked sideways. She was willing to look anywhere else but at YiJeong.

Silence again. She could imagine him gulping. She knew him too damned well. She heard him sigh.

"GaEul, I'm sorry about what happened but can we go back to the way we were?"

GaEul closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If only they could.

"I- I don't think we can," she whispered.

"Oh."

Uncomfortable silence hung around them. GaEul pulled her arm from his light grasp. She turned to walk away when she suddenly paused.

"We can't, because I'm pregnant with your child," she hesitantly said.

"Wha-"

She walked out of the room.

"What?"

Goodbye YiJeong.

… …

GaEul could not focus the rest of the day. YiJeong had not followed her. He could not take the responsibility after all.

But worse than that, her heart was in grief for the fleeting love that had consumed her too greatly.

_It had ended. Finally, it had ended. _

"Alright class, you are dismissed."

"Thank you and goodbye Teacher."

_It had finally, officially, ended._

With a heavy heart, she packed her books and left the classroom without even uttering goodbye to JanDi. She trudged towards the gates of the school, barely registering her surroundings.

Once at the gates, she stopped just one step before exiting the place. She turned to look back at the front façade of her high school. She might not be able to return after a while. She simply stood, hands clutching the handles of her bag, drinking in the view.

Then she turned and took a step out. She turned right, ready to go home.

A hand clasped her shoulder. Somebody familiar was panting. He turned her around.

"Chu GaEul, you agreed not to leave me forever. So don't leave me. I'll go with you. We'll tell your parents together, if you haven't told them yet. I know it's going to be hard but we can do it. I'll be with you. I'll stay beside you, forever. And I'm sorry."

Pause.

"Mm."


End file.
